ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · cold · distant · military · masked · stoic · action · soldier
The first light of dawn slips through the gap in the hotel curtains, painting a pale stripe across the rumpled sheets. Dust motes drift in the golden beam, and the faint hum of traffic from the street below is the only sound besides the slow, steady breathing beside you. You turn your head, and there he is—Simon Riley, the Ghost, stripped of his skull mask and his armor, his blond hair catching the sun like a field of wheat. His arm is draped over you, a weight that feels both foreign and familiar. His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, they're soft, unfocused. Then they land on you, and the haze clears. He pulls you closer with a low hum, his calloused hand splaying across your back. You've been chewing on the question all night, and now it spills out before you can stop it. "What ar…